


taraxacum (blow away, dandelion)

by kasuutan



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Tri
Genre: Blowjobs, Developing Relationships, Fluff and Angst, M/M, aka i went too hard i didnt mean for this to happen, jk lmao it ended up at 15k, slight praise kink??, this is me screaming about taishiro on a google doc for like 11k words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-23 05:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3756787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kasuutan/pseuds/kasuutan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taichi never stops thinking about Koushiro.<br/>Sometimes, he wishes he could. </p><p>boys fall in love the only way boys know how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. anthophyta

**Author's Note:**

> i sacrificed my body to write this fic as an offering to god to will taishiro to be canon in tri  
> no one cares about taishiro but i care too much

When he misses the goal again, the other teammates groan, and his brows furrow together and he looks at the grass. It’s just practice, it’s not like missing the goal actually matters, but It’s maybe the 4th time today that Koushiro’s missed, probably the 20th time this week that Koushiro’s missed, and really, as the team captain, Taichi should be mad. 

But he isn’t. 

He can’t be when Koushiro’s standing next to the net, toes digging into the field. He won’t look up, he hears his teammates mumbling about him, about that kid who can’t play and never talks to anyone, what is he doing on the soccer team in the first place? 

He can’t be mad. Koushiro’s dealt with enough, hasn’t he? 

There’s a hand on his shoulder. 

“Taichi, what do you want to do? We can’t have him play on Saturday…” It’s Sora, vice-captain and the only girl on an all-boys soccer team. She isn’t laughing or groaning, but there’s worry in her brow and a frown tugging at her lips. She’s right. Koushiro _can’t_ play, but for some reason, Taichi doesn’t want to tell him “no.” 

“I’ll talk to him.” Taichi says, collecting cones off the field and stacking them together. 

“Ugh, Yagami, come on, just kick him off. Or make him the water boy or something, there’s no use having him on this team, and you know it.” Taichi waves his hand like he’s saying “shut up.” 

“Yeah, he’s right Yagami. He’s just a bench warmer, put him on the field and we’re goners.” Taichi claws at the inside of his palm. He drops the cones on the bench. 

“Can you guys shut up?!” Taichi wasn’t mad earlier when Koushiro missed the goal, but he can feel his blood burning and his face heating up. 

“Geez. Taichi. Chill out... “ His teammate holds up his hands in defense, like he’s saying “What’s the big deal?” 

“That’s not how you talk about your teammates. So shut up or get off my team.” He grabs a towel from the stack and crosses the field again, leaving the rest of his team mumbling about _him_ now. 

At least they aren’t mumbling about Koushiro. 

Koushiro’s the last one on the field, staring up at the net. He’s following the metal framing with his eyes, like he’s measuring something. 

“Hey, think fast!” Taichi throws the towel and Koushiro flinches. He sticks his hands up in shock, and the towel smacks him in the face. 

“Please, dont’ do that again…” Koushiro mumbles as he pulls the towel off his face and pats at his forehead. “But thank you, Yagami-senpai.” Taichi makes a face. 

“Ugh. That sounds weird. Yagami-senpai, it sounds so- I hate stuff like that. Taichi’s okay, you know.” Koushiro blinks once, twice, three times like he’s confused and can’t understand. 

“But, Yagami-senp-” Taichi interrupts him with a snort. 

“Repeat after me. Ta-i-chi.” Koushiro hesitates. 

“...Taichi...san.” Taichi scratches the back of his head. _Close enough_ , he thinks. 

“Taichi!” It’s Sora again, calling from the other side of the field. Her hands are around her mouth, voice carrying from the entrance to the locker rooms to the goal. 

“The rest of the team wants to go- what do you want me to do?” 

“Just dismiss them, I’ll head out later!” He can see Sora shrug from across the field before she heads back into the locker room with the rest of the team. 

“You can go with them. I already know why you’re still out here.” Koushiro’s voice is quiet and steady, too steady for an 11 year old boy. It weirds Taichi out, but he tries anyways. 

“Whatcha mean?” He wipes his hand across his forehead, sweat beading along his hairline as the sun beats down on the soccer field. 

“I’m not particularly good at sports. Actually…” Koushiro laughs to himself, light and airy and maybe even a little bit disappointed. “I’m honestly rather bad at them.” He looks at the net again. 

“I don’t want to jeopardize Yagam- er. Taichi-san’s team.” Koushiro picks his feet up and starts to walk towards the locker room, towel folded neatly and tucked under his arm. 

“H-hey! Wait a sec, Koushirou.”  He jogs after him, grabbing his shoulder with enough force to stop him from walking, but light enough that it doesn’t feel forceful. Koushiro stops, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. 

“You’re not jeoper-jeopar- you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re my teammate, just like everyone else. Sorry about the rest of them, I told them to knock it off, so no one else should be giving you a hard time anymore.” Taichi isn’t sure what he’s getting at- in the end, his teammates are right, having a player like Koushiro is worse than not having him at all- the team is at full capacity on reserves. Letting Koushiro go would mean freeing up a space for someone who’d at least be capable of making the shot. 

Taichi doesn’t _want_ a different teammate. 

Koushiro isn’t looking at him. He’s looking back at the goal again, following the metal frame with his eyes. 

Taichi isn’t very smart. He can’t understand half the things Koushiro says, can’t repeat half the words Koushiro uses. He doesn’t know what to say to someone as smart as Koushiro, the words on the tip of his tongue sound stupid in his head. 

So he does what he knows. 

“Koushiro, think fast!”

He knows Koushiro told him to “please don’t do that again”, but the ball is already under Taichi’s foot, hitting the side of his cleat, and shooting across the field in Koushiro’s direction. He yelps, panics, and barely manages to catch it under his foot. He stares at Taichi incredulously, eyes wide and brows disappearing behind his bangs. 

“Shoot!” Taichi yells, like it’s not just the two of them on the soccer field, like it’s a real game, down to the last seconds, score tied, and Koushiro’s open, it’s all up to him, and-

Koushiro draws his leg back, and Taichi braces himself. His foot collides with the ball and it shoots forward, but Taichi isn’t watching the ball, he’s watching Koushiro, watching him as he stares at the net, watches as his face shifts from panic to shock to surprise, the way the corners of his mouth turn up and up and up until his grin takes up half his face because _the ball_ _made it in, I can’t believe it, Taichi-san, the ball made it in!_

“Yeah! I know, I knew you could!” But Taichi’s lying, he doesn’t know, he didn’t know, because he didn’t even _see_ the ball go into the goal. But it doesn’t matter, it honestly doesn’t matter. The goal doesn’t even matter, because Taichi realizes he’s never seen Koushiro smile. 

Taichi runs into the goal and tucks the ball under his foot. 

“Want to go again?” 

And for the first time, Koushiro looks down from the net. His eyes stop following the frame and looks straight at Taichi. 

“Yes, please!” 

The sun is coloring the sky orange before they leave the field, and Taichi can’t help but think it reminds him of the color of Koushiro’s hair. 

 

“Computer camp?” Taichi asks, trying not to sound incredulous because _who willingly signs up for computer camp?_

“Yes! I’m rather excited for it.” Koushiro’s face lights up, dark eyes twinkling like he’s talking about having just gotten a new dog, not a computer camp. If it can make Koushiro look like that though, Taichi thinks, it can’t be all that bad. 

“Huh, what do you do there?” Taichi is eleven. He associates the word “camp” with trees and tents and hiking. He wonders how you could go camping with computers? 

Koushiro takes a bite out of his granola bar, swinging his legs under the table. Recently, they’d taken to eating lunch together at school. They sit alone on the yard, under the big tree next to the play structure. Taichi’s learned that Koushiro doesn’t like the sun, says his skin burns too easily and it causes melon noma, or something like that. TaichI isn’t sure what melons have to do with the sun. 

He doesn’t mind sitting alone though, even if Koushiro doesn’t talk a lot. He doesn’t even mind sitting in the shade, even though Taichi likes the feeling of sun on his skin, golden tan even across his arms and legs. 

“Well, from what I read online, it says it focuses on coding and programming... “ Koushiro goes on, using more words that go through one ear and out the other. Again though, Taichi doesn’t mind not understanding. 

“Ah, I’m sorry. I must be boring you, Taichi-san.” Koushiro crumples the wrapper to his granola bar up and tucks it into his lunch bag. 

“Nah nah nah, it sounds really cool. I like hearing about it.” Taichi isn’t lying. And Koushiro can tell, because his eyes light up, and he’s saying words Taichi can’t understand again, but it’s okay. Because he _can_ understand the look on his face, and he _does_ understand what it means- happy. 

The lunch bell rings, and Koushiro’s already packing up his things. 

“Ah- Koushiro.” 

“Yes?”

Taichi hesitates. He fingers the paper inside his lunch bag. 

“Ah- man. I forgot!” He presses a hand to the back of his head and laughs nervously. Koushiro sighs and shakes his head. He should be used to it by now, Taichi forgetting things. 

They walk back to class, and Taichi drops the summer camp flyer in the trash while Koushiro isn’t looking. 

_I’m sure he’ll be happy at computer camp._

 

Taichi _hates_ when soccer season ends. The last games wind down, one after another. He hates waiting for the next year, hates waiting for when it’s warm enough to get back on the field and play with his friends. It happens once a year though, but for some reason, he really doesn’t want it to end this time. On the afternoon of the last game, he’s dragging his feet back to the locker room, even though they won, 4-2. 

“Taichi-san, congratulations!” 

Taich wonders when they started using lockers right next to each other. There’s plenty of space. The team only has ten boys (plus Sora, making eleven) and the locker room has four rows. Even with the other team, there’s more than enough that it’s unnecessary for Taichi and Koushiro to have neighboring lockers. 

Koushiro knows his combination, and Taichi knows his. 

Taichi wonders if this is the last time he’ll have someone sharing the locker next to him. 

“Taichi-san? Is everything alright?” Koushiro’s looking up at him, something he’s been getting better at. He doesn’t look off to the side anymore, away to follow the frame of the soccer goal. His eyes are dark, almost black, and Taichi bets to someone else, they’d be offputting to look into directly.

He supposes he’s gotten used to them, used to the intensity. 

“Yeah. Everything’s fine. Great even! We won, can you believe it?” And they had, they _had_ won and Koushiro had helped. In the end, after countless hours of after school practicing together, Koushiro shaped up. Arguably, he became valuable to the team, with more calculative aim than most of the other players. 

“It is rather exciting, isn’t it? I’ve never been good at sports, but even I’m happy we won.” Koushiro’s smile spreads, Taichi notices, because he feels it creeping up on his lips too despite himself. 

No one else on the team talks to Koushiro, except Sora occasionally. Taichi thinks it’ll be incredibly lonely and completely different next year without him. 

Taichi opens his locker and stares at his school bag. He imagines the fabric burning up, pamphlet inside igniting like it has for weeks. He’d thrown the first one out. And the second. And the third. He has a stack of them sitting on his desk. 

“Koushiro.” 

He has his jersey half pulled off his head, wild red hair peeking out of the top. 

“Yes?” 

Taichi pulls the pamphlet out of his bag, arm extended. 

“You haven’t signed up for that computer camp yet, have you?” 

It’s just a pamphlet. Just a piece tri-folded piece of paper with blurry images of waterfalls and hiking trails. 

It means a lot more to Taichi. 

Koushiro looks at the paper, confused. 

“...No. I haven’t yet.” 

_After all this, will you still be my friend?_

When Koushiro takes the pamphlet, Taichi smiles. 

_Let’s go on another adventure, together._


	2. magnoliopsida

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taichi panics and koushiro really likes dandelions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starts making up canon and introducing symbolism that never existed in the original show  
> yell at me about taishiro @nanaslut.tumblr.com or @kasuutan on twitter

Taichi can’t remember the last time he’s slept through a night without screaming. He wonders if it happens to anyone else, jolted awake because twigs crack underneath his head when he shifts onto his side, and _shit I need to run, I need to run and wake up the others so no one ends up-_

Taichi remembers piles of bones, ribcage curving over on top of him as he lays in the shell of SkullGreymon. He remembers screaming _get up, Agumon, get up!_ because the bones are collapsing, materializing into nothing before Taichi can say _no, don’t leave me here alone!_

“...up! Wake up, Taichi-san!” And Taichi’s up. It’s cold, it’s so _fucking cold_ like it is _every single night_ but his hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat and he can’t breathe, he feels like he’s choking, feels like he’s dying.

There are hands on his shoulders, rubbing up and down his arms and someone’s counting, or something.

“One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.”

He listens, but doesn’t count along because he doesn’t even remember _how_ to count to four. But he listens, because the voice is soft, quiet, and suddenly breathing isn’t as hard anymore, he can see straight again, and it’s less cold, maybe.

Taichi looks around. The fire he lit earlier barely crackles, sparks dying underneath the wood. He wonders why it isn’t lit, because usually, Agumon-

“Agumon? Where is he? Why isn’t he here?” He stands too quickly and his head spins, stomach churns, and Taichi feels sick, awful.

“He’s safe. He’s okay. He’s just sleeping with everyone else.” He’s being lowered down to the ground again, hands back on his shoulders and Taichi thinks they might be the only thing keeping him anchored.

“Okay?” Taichi’s clenching his arms, nails clawing into the skin until scratches tint pink.

“Okay, Taichi-san?” It takes Taichi too long to realize he’s being asked something, being asked to respond.

“...o-okay.”

Koushiro exhales. He sits down next to the fire and pokes at the wood. He cups his hands around his mouth and blows. The sparks come to life again, and Taichi can make out Koushiro’s face in the orange glow of the fire.

“Here. It’s cold, so please come closer to the fire.” Koushiro helps him slide next to the flames, and Taichi feels useless, feels like a child that needs his mother.

It’s silent, other than the crackle of flames and the occasional forest noise that makes Taichi’s skin prickle. He knows it’s just a harmless wild Digimon, or even just the wind, but he can’t help it, can’t help but flinch and react because at this point, Taichi feels like he’s been running for his life even when he’s sleeping.

A hand wraps around his wrist every time he flinches, reminds him it’s fine, it’s fine, _it’s fine._

Taichi’s forgotten he _is_ just a child that needs his mother. Here, he can’t afford to be so helpless.

“...Sorry.” It’s the second word he’s said all night.

“Not necessary. It’s alright.” Koushiro’s voice is soft, like it always is. Taichi wishes he had a vocabulary large enough to come up with other ways to describe the way it sounds, but that’s what it is- _soft._

“Why are you awake, anyways?” Koushiro shrugs.

“When am I not awake?” And it pangs deep inside Taichi’s chest, and he wonders what keeps Koushiro up at night, and how he’s never noticed. Koushiro never sleeps.

“It’s just....” _Just what?_ Taichi doesn’t know how to finish his sentence.

“I know.” _Of course._ Koushiro knows everything.

The fire is dying out again and Taichi can’t see Koushiro’s face anymore, but he can hear it in his voice when he says,

“It’s lonely here.”

Taichi’s forgotten that Koushiro is just a child that needs his mother, too.

_We have to find him, we have to find him, we have to find him._

Koushiro has always been good with numbers. Data comes easily to him, the figures count themselves, totals ticking together easily.

Koushiro has lost count of the days since Taichi had been sucked into the dimensional rift.

For some reason, the numbers just don’t make sense anymore.

_We have to find him._

“Koushiro-han, you’ve been awfully quiet, what’s troubling you?” Koushiro just hums.

“What makes you say that?” They reach the edge of a clearing, grass flat and blooming with delicate flowers. He leans down to look at the plants and rolls a stem between his fingertips.

 “Well, for one, we’ve already passed this clearing in the forest three times now, and you’ve stopped to observe that same plant all three times.” Koushiro plucks the flower and holds up up to the sun. It glows orange around the edges, light illuminating the puffs and stem.

 “It’s a dandelion.” Koushiro says plainly. “I didn’t realize the digital world and the real world shared flora.”

“Is it rare?” Tentomon buzzes his wings and leans in to observe the plant in Koushiro’s hand.

“No. They’re weeds. They’re everywhere.” He brushes his hand over the top of the white puffy head and smiles to himself. “They’re my favorite flower, though.”

“Oh? And why is that? They’re not very nice to look at.” Koushiro shrugs. He takes a deep breath and blows, scattering the seeds all across the field. The puffs float in the air, dancing around Koushiro’s head and glowing in the afternoon sun.

“They’re everywhere, and always there, if you need something simple to cheer you up.” He plucks two more dandelion puff up from the ground and hands one to Tentomon. “    

“Together, on three.”

_One._

_Three._

Slowly, the numbers start making sense again.

_I have to find him._

 

Somehow, the real world looks duller than Taichi remembers. It’s the middle of the summer, he can see the heat rising from the tops of buildings, warping the clouds above. He thought the sky was bluer than this, but it looks gray, lifeless, flat.

It’s _loud_ , Taichi has to cover his ears because there’s car horns honking, children screaming, motorcycles revving busses screeching sirens blaring and it is so _loud._

Taichi runs the entire way home, hands over his ears.    

The inside of his apartment is dark. The air conditioning is on and it blows Taichi’s hair over his face. He wants to relax, but his couch feels worse than sleeping in dirt and under leaves, the cold air hurts his skin because it feels _wrong._

He might be crazy for wanting to go back.

He needs to go back.

He sees his computer flash and Taichi is running from the couch to the screen,

grasping at the monitor.

Koushiro’s face cuts in and out, distorted and looking unreal. But he’s there, that’s him, and Taichi’s never felt his heart beat faster.

“Koushiro!” He presses his hand against the screen; maybe if he thinks hard enough, he’ll fall right through and end up there, wherever _there_ is.

He doesn’t think it matters, because Koushiro’s there.

“...-don’t-dangerous..-stay where-...are-”

“Huh?” Taichi stares at the screen and Koushiro looks _wrong._ His eyes look dull, just like everything else in this world. There’s not a single twinkle of curiosity in his face, expression half lidded and blank.

The image distorts, fills with white noise and blinks to black. Taichi backs away from the screen, hands shaking at his sides.

He can’t stay here.

He _needs_ to go back.

 

_This is all my fault._

His friends are broken. He’d spent maybe an hour in the Real World, barely enough to eat a full meal. But that’s the equivalent of months, maybe years in the Digital World and his friends are on the verge of breaking, lost and hopeless.

When he’d arrived, they hadn’t even been together. They’d all drifted apart, looking for him.

This is all his fault.

Taichi’s sitting on the edge of a cliff, and he realizes back home, he can’t even point out his own hometown on a map. But here, he can recognize Spiral Mountain towering in the distance, he can see the Coela Beach coast tucked right next to the Native Forest.

They’ve been here too long. He can see it on his friends faces, hear it in their voices. He needs to get them home, but he has no idea how, no idea where to start, and what kind of useless friend is he that he can’t even get his friends home?

“Is sleep avoiding you, too?” Taichi hears twigs crack behind him and for once, he doesn’t flinch.

Maybe he’s just memorized the sound of Koushiro’s footsteps.

“Yeah, I mean. It’s pretty hard to sleep out here when you’ve just been reminded how nice air conditioning is.” Taichi laughs humorlessly. Koushiro doesn’t laugh at all. He swings his legs over the edge of the cliff, and sits.

“It’s not your fault, you know.” Taichi blinks and stares at him.

“You’re scary. You’re so smart, you can read my mind. That’s freaky.” Koushiro shrugs.

“I guess I’ve just learned.” He picks at some plants growing around the tree nearby. He puts his hands back in his lap, and Taichi stares at the stems peaking out from between his fingers. Taichi sighs, long and drawn out like he’s been holding it in. He leans back on his palms and stares up at the sky.

He thinks about, back home, Taichi’s never seen stars.

“It’s just. Look at them. They need to go home. We’re starving. You haven’t slept in weeks.” Koushiro pokes under his eyes self consciously, dark circles looking more like bruises against his pale, ghostly skin. Taichi can see the bones poke out from his wrists when he types on that computer, can see his facial features sink in more and more every day.

“They’re just _kids._ Takeru is seven years old. He’s the same age as my-” Taichi stops because his chest hurts, he’s here and she’s there and what kind of older brother is he if he isn’t there to take care of her?

“ _You’re_ just a kid.” Koushiro accuses, thick brows drawn down. “Stop shouldering all this responsibility.” Taichi flinches because he’s never heard Koushiro raise his voice, sound so harsh and damaged. Koushiro seems to notice, because his expression falters and softens.

“Thank you for coming back.” And when Koushiro smiles, Taichi knows exactly why he came back. “I-we. We missed you.”

“...Y-yeah. I missed you. You guys. I missed you guys, too.”

Koushiro rotates whatever he’s holding between his fingers.

“Here.” He holds up a stem topped with a head of round, white fluff.

“...Huh?” Taichi knows he’s dumb, especially in comparison to Koushiro, but he’s pretty sure this time, whatever Koushiro’s showing him doesn’t make sense.

“It’s a dandelion puff. You’re supposed to blow on it.” Koushiro says it like he thinks Taichi is dumb, too.

“...I know that. But last time I did that, you got mad at me for spreading the seeds or something, because more weeds grow.” Koushiro shrugs.

“Sometimes, it’s okay to be illogical, isn’t it?”

Taichi grins, and it feels real, spreads up his cheeks and touches the tips of his ears.

“On three, okay?”

_One. Two._

Taichi watches as the puffs float over the edge of the cliff, dance around together in the sky. They blend in with the stars and scatter over the entire Digital World.

The seeds will end up everywhere, but Taichi thinks Koushiro won’t mind the weeds this time.

 

   

“Me? Why me?” Koushiro hates pressure. He hates the feeling of dread crawling up his spine because what if he doesn’t do it right? Everyone’s relying on him but what if he doesn’t have the right answer?

Koushiro’s made it a point to learn everything and anything, so he can’t disappoint or be disappointed.

He stares at the Digital Gate.

He hasn’t learned enough.

But Taichi’s looking at him, all warm brown eyes and soft smiles. Taichi has this strange impression that Koushiro must be a genius, since he can clearly read minds. Koushiro hasn’t fully corrected him, because he’d rather Taichi believe _that_ then know Koushiro spends so much time observing his face, watching the way his expression flickers, memorizing the way he worries and the way he smiles.

The way Taichi’s looking at him now says _Because I trust you._

And Koushiro looks back at him, big, dark eyes saying,

_If I can’t do it, will you still be my friend?_

And Taichi laughs.

“Of course, stupid.”

 

   

The snow coats the entire campgrounds and it’s cold on Koushiro’s skin. He feels it leaking through his shirt, caught in his gloves and biting at his fingers. He jumps, shakes himself dry and is half convinced he opened the portal to Antarctica, not Japan.

“We’re back, we’re really back! Koushiro, we’re back!

He’s up in the air before he can even see who’s shouting at him.     He sees large trees and tents at the bottom of the camp ground.

They’re back, they’re really back.

“Taichi-san, I really did it!” And he’s being pulled into a chest-crushing, breath-taking full armed hug, and Koushiro doesn’t remember the last time he was held quite like this.

“You did! I knew you could, I always knew you could!”

Koushiro’s laughing, laughing so hard he feels his cheeks getting sore and his eyes water. Taichi’s arms hurt, he can barely breath but he doesn’t want to be let go, because they made it, they really made it.

Taichi pulls off of him and puts his hand on his shoulders. He looks down at him, bleary brown eyes swelling with tears.

_I’m glad we went on this adventure, together. Take me on another one, soon._


	3. asterales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taichi deals with heartbreak by finding a new reason for it to beat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when will taishiro stop   
> talk to me @nanaslut on tumblr and @kasuutan on twit

“...Yamato, huh.” Taich is incredibly conflicted. 

“Mhm...yeah. Sorry…” Taichi scratches the back of his head. 

“Yeah. Nah, it’s okay. That’s cool. Have fun with Yamato.” _Good for Yamato, because he’s supposed to be my best friend or something, apparently, but also fuck Yamato because what the fuck._

Taichi is _incredibly_ conflicted because Sora is his _other_ best friend before she’s that girl he probably definitely totally has a crush on, and he should be glad she’s happy, or something. And Yamato is his best friend before he’s that one asshole who probably definitely totally stole his potential girlfriend, and he should be glad he’s happy, or something. 

Fuck being conflicted, Taichi’s miserable. 

He tells himself at the very least, he’s allowed to be miserable about himself, and pleasant in public for his best friends’ happiness. 

Taichi doesn’t go outside for the rest of his winter vacation. 

He spends it throwing a soccer ball at the bottom of Hikari’s bunk, letting it bounce off the wood frame and back at his chest. 

“Onii-chan, please stop that.” She mumbles from above. 

“Stop what.” He throws the ball again. 

“Well first. Throwing that ball, because I can feel it and it’s kind of annoying. And second. Moping.” 

“I’m not moping. And that’s what you get for taking the upper bunk.” He throws the ball again. Hikari sighs. 

“You should go outside.” 

“Nah.” Taichi lets the ball roll onto their bedroom floor. He turns onto his side and faces the wall. Going outside is the last thing he wants to do today. And the last thing he’ll want to do tomorrow. And the day after that. 

“At least get out of bed.” 

“Nah.” That’s the second to last thing he wants to do today. 

Taichi knows to not test Hikari’s patience, or she’ll start taking matters into her own hands. _Good, maybe_ she _can find me a girlfriend or something. Or a better best friend. Whichever is easier._

“I’m going out. Takeru asked me if I wanted to see a movie.” Taichi groans into his pillow, not because he doesn’t like Takeru, who’s an infinitely better choice than Daisuke, but because _my little eleven year old sister has a boyfriend and I don’t what is happening._

“Onii-chan, go outside. You won’t find a boyfriend in here.” 

“Leave already.” He throws his pillow, but Hikari is out of the room and it hits the door. Taichi stares at the pillow, sad looking and defeated, and he wonders if there’s something wrong with him that he’s found himself relating to a piece of bedding. 

He shakes his head. Maybe he does need to get out. 

But getting out takes effort. 

He pulls his D-terminal out from underneath his pillow. 

_me: come over_

_koushiro: Well, look who’s no longer AWOL._

_me: dont or ill just go back to sleep for the next four days again_

_koushiro: Give me an hour._

 

“NO KOUSHI LITERALLY FIGHT ME RIGHT NOW YOU CANNOT-” Taichi rolls off the couch onto the floor, controller clutched between his sweaty palms because _fuck this no are you kidding me really???_

“I am fighting you.” Koushiro says flatly, setting his controller down on the carpet in front of him. “Or. Was fighting you.”   
“NO LIKE ACTUALLY FIGHT ME YOU CHEAP SHIT.” He’s lunging across the room, grabbing Koushiro by the shoulders and pinning him down on the carpet. Koushiro squeaks, and he’s underneath Taichi’s entire body weight, flat against the floor.

“Taichi-san, stop, please get off me-” He sputters, bursts into choked giggles because Taichi is actually cheap shit and has resorted to tickling his waist. 

“That’s what you get for cheating you smart ass.” 

“I was not cheating!” Koushiro shoves Taichi back because _he’s heavy he has four inches on me and probably twenty pounds this is ridiculous_ and rolls them over. His knees are on either side of Taichi’s thighs and they’re both panting, cheeks rosy and faces smile-stained. 

It’s been four days since Taichi last left his house. 

He’s having a hard time remembering why. 

 

 

It hits him hard one day. It’s not like it happened overnight, or anything, because when he looks back on it, Taichi can pick out all the little changes he’s noticed. But one day, he’s just laying on Koushiro’s bed, staring aimlessly at the back of his head while he types away like he always is. 

He doesn’t notice anything different right away; honestly, Koushiro is still Koushiro. 

It’s when he reaches his arms up to stretch that it makes Taichi’s thoughts screech to a complete halt. 

As a kid, Koushiro had been short all the way around, short in height, short limbs, short legs, short torso. He’d been like a stump; secretly to himself, Taichi would think that Koushiro reminded him of a mushroom. 

Now though, Taichi can follow narrow shoulders over thin, long arms. He’s been watching Koushiro type for ages, but suddenly his fingers look more delicate, and Taichi wants to-

“What’s with that look? Do I have something on my face?” Taichi blinks hard. He has to tear himself from running his eyes over the dip of Koushiro’s waist to look him in the eye. Taichi’s never had a problem looking at Koushiro, but right now, he feels his face heating up and he has the strange desire to look away.  
“Nah. No. Nope.” Koushiro raises a brow.

“Are you alright?” 

_Nah. No. Nope. I’m probably not alright, I think I was just checking you out like I check out Sora when Yamato isn’t looking but..._

“Yeah. Yeah I’m fine.” 

“Okay…” Koushiro gives him one last look before he pads out of the room slowly. 

Taichi stares up at the ceiling. 

_I guess he finally grew into himself._

Taichi shrugs. 

_Whatever._

 

Sometimes, Taichi thinks he’s over it. Sometimes, he’s okay, they can all sit together at lunch and Taichi feels fine. He can tease Yamato about how his band is shit, they can laugh like normal friends can and everything feels like the way it should be. 

But sometimes he doesn’t look away quick enough, and he sees Yamato wrapping an arm around Sora’s waist, sees those shit lingering glances they exchange and Taichi feels like shit, because he still wishes that Sora would look at _him_ like that. 

Sometimes, Taichi thinks he’ll never be over it. 

It takes one thing, and he’s back to walking all the way around campus, just to avoid running into Sora and Yamato by accident. It’s stupid, Taichi’s stupid because it’s been a year? Longer? And Taichi should be over it, but sometimes he thinks half the time he’s just pretending. 

And then, it all builds up again, and Taichi’s hyperaware of every single little thing Yamato does. Like when his shoulder bumps against Sora because they sit so close, Taichi bets their thighs are pressing against one another under the table . He hates it, hates that little things like that makes him feel empty inside and he spends all of lunch looking down, tracing the specks of dirt crusted on the table. 

Taichi feels a shoulder bump up against his, feels knuckles brush against the back of his hand when he picks up his sandwich. Taichi looks up, and Koushiro’s looking at him, eyebrows creased  in worry. 

_Are you alright?_ Is what his face says. He looks at Sora and Yamato briefly, and then looks back. Taichi glances to the side and shrugs.

_Not really._ Koushiro frowns, but he shifts in his seat and Taichi feels their shoulders bump again, feels their hands brush when Koushiro brings food to his mouth. 

They spend the rest of lunch sitting close enough, their thighs are pressed together. 

Taichi hopes Koushiro doesn’t mind. 

 

There are some days where Taichi definitely, definitely isn’t fine. 

They’re watching TV, or kind of just staring at it. They’ve been doing this for a while, so long that “I” has become “we”, he has a toothbrush in Koushiro’s bathroom, and clothes folded in his dresser. 

Koushiro’s on one end of the couch, sitting crosslegged against one of the arms. Taichi’s lying down, feet propped in Koushiro’s lap and head against the opposite arm. 

Taichi looks away from the TV because frankly, it’s boring, and Koushiro’s been silent for almost an hour. 

He sees him smiling down at this D-terminal and Taichi thinks that’s weird. 

“What’re you smiling about?” Koushiro jumps, startled with a little squeak. Taichi watches his cheeks color and for some reason that makes his chest pang. 

“O-oh. Nothing. I’m not.” 

“You’re a shit liar.” 

“I’m just- I’m talking to a friend.” Taichi stares at him blankly.   
“Who?” He doesn’t mean it to sound rude. But he’s sitting right here. Who else would Koushiro be talking to that would make him smile at his D-terminal like a lovestruck teenager? 

Not that _he_ makes Koushiro smile at his D-terminal like a lovestruck teenager.

That he knows of, at least. 

“Ah-I. My friend from America. Wallace.” Koushiro’s mentioned him once or twice, but Taichi never paid much attention to it. 

“Uh huh.” Taichi isn’t sure what else to ask. He looks back at the TV and from the corner of his eye, he can see Koushiro bury himself back into his D-terminal. 

_Whatever, he can talk to who he wants._

He reaches for the remote, but the remote isn’t there. It’s sitting on the top of the arm on Koushiro’s side, right beside his elbow. 

“Koushiro, pass me the remote.” He doesn’t move. 

“Oi. The remote.” He nudges Koushiro with his foot. He’s still occupied with typing on that fucking D-terminal. 

Taichi has no idea what his damage is, but seeing Koushiro smiling down at the fucking machine, knowing he’s smiling because some kid from America is chatting him up on the other end, and is now ignoring him to type out messages on the goddamn D-terminal makes Taichi-

He knocks the device out of Koushiro’s hand with the edge of his foot. It clatters to the floor, and Koushiro stares after it in shock.

“Taichi-san! Why on earth would you do that?!” He’s glaring at him, legitimate irritation crossing his face.   
“I was trying to get your attention, and you were just staring at the fucking thing and typing instead of listening to me.” Koushiro rolls his eyes. He shoves Taichi’s legs off his lap and stands from the couch. 

“Here’s the remote. Next time, stop being lazy and get it yourself.” He drops it onto Taichi’s chest and picks up his D-terminal before situating himself back on the couch. Taichi grits his teeth. 

“It’s fine. I can just watch TV at home, since you’re clearly not gonna talk to me while I’m here.” 

“Taichi-san, with all due respect, but you’re relatively unpleasant to talk to when you act like this.” 

“I am _not_ acting like anything. _You’re_ the one ignoring _me.”_ Taichi stands from the couch and crosses the room to the front door. “But it’s whatever. It’s fucking whatever. I’m used to it.” Taichi’s used to being being second priority. He’s not sure when he started to believe he wasn’t. “Have fun talking to your friend from America.” 

“Taichi-san, wait-” 

Taichi slams the door behind him. 

He leans against the door and slides down to the ground. 

Taichi’s mad, but for some reason, he’s more mad at himself than anything else. 

 

And then there are some days where Taichi feels like things will never be fine. 

He’s back to throwing the soccer ball at the bottom of Hikari’s bunk, but she’s long left, gone off to the Digital World to do some fun Digital World shit that Taichi is no longer a part of. 

“Do you need help?” He had asked when Hikari had swung her legs over the side of the bed. 

“No, don’t worry about it. It’s just some simple clean up work today.” And she was gone before Taichi could tell her “do you need help” actually means “I want to go”. 

And now he’s alone again, laying flat on his bed with nothing but a soccer ball for company. 

Koushiro hasn’t texted or called him in nearly two weeks. It’s not like he’d _need_ to, since Taichi gets it, no one actually _needs_ him. He wonders if Koushiro’s having fun, and Taichi thinks he probably is, since he’s not sitting in his room occupying space and bugging him while he tries to work on Intensive Digital World Research. 

Taichi wonders when he got so attached, when he started thinking about Koushiro as his best friend instead of Yamato. Maybe he always has. His chest hurts and it’s that same empty feeling he’s come to associate with Sora. But all he can think about is dark black eyes and delicate fingers. 

There’s something worse about losing a best friend, especially when it’s all _his_ fault. 

He knows Koushiro is too good for him. 

He wants to try, anyways. 

 

_im sorry i was being a dick. i bet your friend is cool.  
love taichi _

 

He hits send automatically and gets up from the computer. He’s half out the room before he realizes _what the fuck love I meant from???_

Taichi runs back to stares at his screen and wonders how the fuck he manages to always end up accidentally substituting “from” for “love” 

Maybe it’s not accidental. 

A beep makes Taichi jump. He feels like he’s waiting for texts from Sora again, and that’s weird, because it’s just Koushiro, isn’t it? 

He tries to pretend he can’t feel his pulse thumping in his throat when he opens the message.

 

_It’s alright. Wallace is nice, but it’s been lonely the last couple of weeks._  
Koushiro   
PS: Did you accidentally replace “from” with “love” again?  

 

Taichi feels his face burn and he clacks away at his keyboard with shaking fingers. 

 

_shut up. but yeah. i wont lie, im a mess. can i come over?_

_FROM taichi_

 

_Of course you can. But can you meet me at the park instead? I wanted to show you something._  

_Love  
Koushiro _

 

Taichi’s leaping from his chair and slamming his apartment door behind him. He’s halfway to the park before he realizes his cheeks hurt from smiling. 

 

Taichi doesn’t see him, but he doesn’t have to look around to know exactly where he’ll find Koushiro. 

“Aren’t we getting kinda big to fit in here?” He’s leaning over the entrance to the tire fort, Koushiro’s knees tucked tight to his chest with his back pressed against black rubber. 

“A little bit, but I like the familiarity. So are you going to join me, or not, because if you aren’t, I can stretch my legs and get a bit more comfortable.” 

Taichi shoves his way into the fort, kicking Koushiro in the shins, in the elbows, everywhere. Their knees knock together and Taichi can almost feel Koushiro’s breaths on his neck but he doesn’t mind it, doesn’t mind it at all. 

“Hi.” Koushiro says, looking almost sheepish. His cheeks are flushed his hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, and it makes Taichi’s heart beat again. 

“Hey.” Taichi blames his breathlessness on the heat. 

“It’s been a while, Taichi-san.” Taichi wonders why his chest swells when Koushiro says his name. It _has_ been a while. He doesn’t remember Koushiro looking like _this_ two weeks ago, so soft around the edges and maybe even almost- 

“ Yeah. It has.” Taichi wants to reach out, brush his hand against Koushiro’s cheek because for some reason that feels _right_ right now.

“I was here the other day because…” Koushiro blushes and it makes Taichi catch his breath. “Well. Like I said it’s been a little bit lonely since I last saw you. And I noticed something.” Koushiro picks at the ground and plucks something from the dirt. “The tire fort has been here for so long, look what’s growing.” 

Koushiro holds up two dandelion puffs, white and soft and perfect looking against the delicate skin of his hands. He hands one to Taichi and he just stares back. 

“You want to blow these in here?” Koushiro shrugs. 

“Why not?” 

“The puffs will get all over us.” Koushiro shrugs again. 

Taichi grins and takes a stem. 

“On three?” 

They don’t need to count out loud because Taichi can hear Koushiro’s voice counting in his head. 

_One  
Two_

_Three._

But Taichi misses the three, because he’s too focused on the way Koushiro’s lips purse when he blows, and he’s too focused on how everything’sperfect, the way the puffs dance around his cheeks, the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles, the sound of his voice when he laughs it’s all so-

“Taichi? Is something wrong?” 

_Taichi._ It plays in Taichi’s head, the way Koushiro’s voice sounds when he says _his_ name and _just_ his name. He watches the way Koushiro’s mouth moves when it works past his lips and he wants to memorize it, wants him to say it again that way so he can play it over and over in his head because he doesn’t think _anyone_ will be able to say his name that way again. 

“No, nothing’s wrong. Everything’s great.” And for once, Taichi feels like it is. 

_I want to go on an adventure with you forever._

~~~~ _From  
_ _Love  
Taichi_


	4. asteraceae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taichi fucks up when he's in love and koushiro wishes he wouldn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a note that theyre definitely at least tri ages in this chapter, definitely not like 14 year old middle schoolers. taichi is at least 17, maybe even 18 im not really sure hahahaaaa
> 
> a thank you to the like two people who stuck around reading this because taishiro is so precious and maybe like 4 people total care about them ;c 
> 
> i hope the two people who ARE reading this have had a good time C: one more chapter after this. 
> 
> again, chat me up @ koushiheaux.tumblr.com and @kasuutan on twit!!!

He hopes he won’t catch him looking. He doubts he will, because the keys won’t stop clicking and the screen’s lit bright enough to blind Koushirou to anything around him. He’s laying flat on his bed, stomach down. Ankles are locked behind his head, legs swinging back and forth in the air. He follows the point of his toes to the round of his heel, down his skinny ankle and over the curve of his calf. The skin disappears beneath the cuff of his shorts, and Taichi wonders how long it’s been since he’s even thought about Sora, how long it’s been since he’s looked at Sora like he’s looking at Koushiro right now, thinks that it’s been so long, he’s forgotten what it felt like to be hurt. 

Taichi hopes he won’t catch him looking, but something tugs at him, tugs at the inside of his chest, and it says “please look at me please see the way I look at you.” 

Koushiro recrosses his ankles and keeps clicking away at his keyboard. 

For now though, Taichi’s okay with just looking. 

 

“Good morning, Taichi-san.” Taichi has his cheek pressed to his desk, arms pillowed around his head. 

“Ngghn…” He turns his head to one side to manage a half-assed “Morning” but he stops, mouth half open because _fuck._

“Are you alright?” Koushiro looks concerned, brows pulling together in worry. 

“You. Got a haircut.” Taichi sounds fucking stupid, like yeah clearly, he got a haircut? That’s why his hair is shorter, why it wisps around his forehead out of his eyes and curls around the tips of his ears. 

It might be his imagination, but Taichi thinks he sees Koushiro’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Oh. Um. Yes, I did. I thought it was getting a little bit shaggy...and it’s a little bit easier to manage when it’s shorter like this…” He reaches up to tug at the strands hugging his ears and it’s _really fucking cute???_ Little tufts of hair stick up at the top of his head, attractively messy in just the right places. 

“Ah. It. It looks nice.” Taichi wants to punch himself. 

“...Thank you.” Koushiro looks away, and yeah, that’s definitely color rising in his face. He takes his seat directly in front of Taichi, running his fingers through his hair self consciously. It musses the shorter layers around the crown of his head, and Taichi spends the rest of class wondering what it’d feel like clenched between his fingers.  

 

They make his eyes look bigger.

“I guess it was going to happen sooner or later- I’m surprised I didn’t have to wear them until now. Staring at a computer screen all day long really does take its toll on your vision.” Koushiro fingers the plastic frame of his glasses, nervous and self conscious. 

“They suit you.” Taichi follows the black frame that hugs Koushiro’s face. They sit right on the tops of his cheekbones, and they’re _cute_ Koushiro’s _so cute, what the fu-_

“Hm. I’m not sure…” He pulls the frames off his face and rotates them around in his hand. It occurs to Taichi that Koushiro is _always_ self conscious, and he wishes he weren’t because doesn’t he understand he’s just _so-_

“Oi.” Taichi can’t stop himself. It’s been getting harder, keeping to himself, being content with just looking. He’d been okay just watching Koushiro’s long fingers dance over his computer keys, been okay with watching the way his back curves in when he lays on his bed. He’s been good, been good at keeping it a secret and letting everything stay the way it always has been. 

Taichi wishes he didn’t _have_ to just look. 

Taichi doesn’t _want_ to just look anymore. 

He reaches forward, taking the glasses from Koushiro’s hands. 

“What-” he starts but freezes when Taichi presses them back onto his face, lets his knuckle draw along the top of his cheekbones and brush over smooth skin that literally haunts every single one of Taichi’s dreams. He brushes bangs out of his face and tucks strands of hair behind his ear and its soft, so soft. He lets himself trail fingers down the side of his neck, feels Koushiro’s pulse beneath his skin and it’s quick, but not as fast as Taichi’s. 

“W-what are you-” Koushiro tries again, voice shaky and uneven, but Taichi doesn’t want to talk right now, just wants to feel, even if it’s just once, and then he’ll never do it again and things will go back to the way they were. 

He presses a finger to Koushiro’s lips and he feels the gasp and shudder ghost against his skin. It tingles up his hand, over his wrist and along his arm; it’s intoxicating, Koushiro is intoxicating. 

“They look nice, okay?” What Taichi means is _you_ look nice. 

Koushiro looks up at him, dark eyes huge beneath the lenses of his glasses. Taichi loves Koushiro’s eyes, so intense and always curious. He’s looking at Taichi with questions of _what? why?_ and Taichi wants to give him answers. 

He presses his hand under Koushiro’s jaw and tilts his head up. He can feel Koushiro’s breaths against his face, warm and heavy and it drives Taichi crazy, fucking crazy because _how long have I been okay with just looking?_

He leans in closer, he’s almost there when he thinks,

_You always fuck everything up._

_Don’t fuck this up too._

He drops his hand to his lap. Koushiro blinks. 

“What-” It’s his third time asking, and his third time he hasn’t gotten an answer. 

_He’s too important._

_I can’t love him._

Taichi runs out of the room. 

He’s half way back home before he realizes that he’s crying. 

 

Koushiro can practically feel him on his lips. He presses fingers up to his mouth. His hands tremble. 

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat. It’s all he can hear, the blood pounds in his ears and it’s hot, his face feels hot. 

Koushiro presses hands to his mouth.

_What is this? Why is this? Where did he go? Why did he leave?_

Koushiro has too many questions and no answers. 

He’s curious about the way that Taichi’s lips feel, whether they’re warm or cold, chapped or soft. He’s curious about the sound of Taichi’s heartbeat, whether he’d be able to taste it if he pressed his mouth against his neck.

For once, he wishes he weren’t so curious. Because it’s driving him crazy, and Koushiro doesn’t know how to deal with feeling crazy. 

_This is a mistake._

_We are a mistake._

Koushiro won’t let it happen. 

 

The lights in Koushiro's room are duller than the ones at home. His head hurts, and he's laying face flat on the bed. He groans, shifts onto his side and faces Koushiro's back. Keys click beneath his fingers and neither of them have said a word. Usually, Taichi doesn't mind. He just likes being there, listening to Koushiro's hands move over the keys, watching his eyes move across the screen. 

Koushiro still doesn't know he watches, though. 

But today, Taichi feels sick. It's 3pm, he's been in bed since he snuck into Koushiro's room at one in the morning, because his mom would have literally killed him if he snuck home that late. It has nothing to do with, after last night, all Taichi needed was the familiar warmth of Koushiro's too-small bed, the ghosting feeling of his body just barely pressed against his side.

Koushiro grumbled and groaned when Taichi stumbled into his room that morning, but he just moved over, pressed himself against the wall and gave Taichi space. 

Taichi never fell asleep. He just lay there, enjoying the warmth of the sheets and the glow of Koushiro's skin under the moonlight. 

But now he's awake, like actually awake, and he feels sick again. Sobered up and too aware, Taichi hopes Koushiro says something first.

"So, would you like to talk about it?" Koushiro doesn't look away from his computer, keeps following lines of numbers and letters that, no matter how many times Taichi's watched him from over his shoulder, still don't make any sense. 

Taichi wants Koushiro to look at him. He feels like he hasn't in weeks, months. He wants to stop making excuses, leaning over his shoulder saying "Hey, I just wanna see what's so great about this coding shit you're always doing." when all he's doing is pressing himself into Koushiro's neck, taking in the scent of his shampoo, his detergent, his soap. 

But Koushiro won't look at him. He wonders if he's done something wrong.

"I. At the party last night. I slept with this girl." He watches Koushiro's face for any change of expression. He just stares at his screen, types a string of code and hums.

"Is that so?" He picks up the bottle of root beer on his desk and Taichi tries to not watch the way his lips curl around the mouth as he tips his head back and drinks. 

"And, seeing as you ended up here in my room instead of staying in bed with her, can I assume it didn't go very well?" Koushiro still isn't looking at him and Taichi wants to spin his chair around and _make_ him, follow the crease of his eyebrows, trace the dark hollows beneath his eyes, rub his thumb up the rise of his cheekbones. 

"She had red hair." Is all Taichi says. He watches Koushiro's hands stop above his keyboard in mid type. 

"Ah. Like Sora-san."

Taichi fucking freezes. He feels his chest throb, his heart ache and his throat swell up because all he just wants to yell _no,_ not like Sora, red like _yours_ , dark eyes just like _yours_ , pale, smooth skin _just like yours_.

"Yeah. I guess."

Koushiro goes back to typing without another word. He opens his mouth to say something- but he can’t. What _can_ he say? I spent the entire time thinking about you, thinking about how her eyes are almost as dark as yours, but I couldn’t get myself to believe they _were_ , because they didn’t look at me the way that you used to. I had to stop, because I almost said your name instead of hers, and I don’t even fucking remember her name because _all I was thinking about was you._

Taichi’s never stopped thinking about Koushiro. 

Sometimes, he wishes he could. 

 

He finds out her name is Sato. Koushiro finds out, too. 

"Taichi-san, can you meet me after school? I would have asked earlier, but well...you haven't been responding to my texts and..." She trails off, and all Taichi can think about is how she says "Taichi-san", too. 

He looks at Koushiro who, unsurprisingly, isn't look at him. 

"Uh, well. I already had plans to go to Koushi-"

"Oh, it's quite alright." Koushiro interrupts, harshly, and it makes Taichi flinch. Koushiro never talks over anyone, never snaps, never raises his voice. 

He must have really fucked up.

He _really_ fucked up. 

"Taichi-san, I'll be going. See you tomorrow morning." He bows to Sato, doesn't look at Taichi once, and dismisses himself. 

"I won't be long. You can probably catch up to him later." 

"No...it's okay. Not your fault." And it isn't, it's all Taichi's fault and he knows it. "He. Probably doesn't want to talk to me right now." And Sato smiles, or her lips curl into something resembling a smile. Her eyes are cold and vacant, and they make Taichi want to look away. 

"Well, that makes both of you. I doubt you want to talk to me right now either but..."

She looks at the door and guilt rattles around Taichi's chest.

"We should go. Somewhere else. That isn't. Like. Here." Taichi stumbles through and Sato nods. She walks ahead of him by two paces, to show they're walking together but aren't _together_. Taichi watches the back of her head, soft auburn hair curling around the tops of her shoulders, and all he can think about is how it's not the same shade of red after all.

 

"I'm so sorry. I am so, so, sorry." Taichi's standing stiff, body folded in a bow, eyes scrunched shut because he is so fucking sorry.

"...huh. That's not the reaction I was expecting." Sato mumbles. "Okay, stop that, people are staring and you're attracting attention. Just sit down." Taichi looks up and, sure enough, passer byers are mumbling to themselves, pointing and definitely not minding their own business.

"...Sorry..." Taichi scratches the back of his head and sits on the park bench two hand widths away from Sato. She crosses her legs.

"Well...I had a really long rant planned? Calling you unsympathetic and disgusting but. Well." She looks surprised more than upset, which is good, Taichi supposes.

"I am really sorry. I didn't..." He picks at his fingers. "It's really complicated." He doesn't know how to explain. How _do_ you explain? I slept with you because the color of your hair reminds me of my best friend, my best friend I've known since we were 11, my best friend that won't even look at me anymore, my best friend who probably hates me now because falling in love with your best friend ends in shit?

He can't explain. 

"Well, in fairness, I think I deserve an explanation, Taichi-san"

" _Please_ don't call me Taichi-san." he practically begs. He feels his voice straining. Sato looks at him.

"...Taichi-kun then." He exhales

"I know. You deserve an explanation it's just..." I _t sounds shitty._ "You. You remind me of someone. I think it's your hair and the way you talk. It reminded me of someone I. I don't think I can have. So I." He leans against the bench and exhales. "God, that sounds so shit..." 

"It's a little bit shit." she agrees and Taichi laughs humorlessly. 

"It's shit. I'm pretty shit." Taichi looks around the park and thinks about how when they were kids, they'd play soccer under the tree next to the playground. He remembers hot summers, sitting under the tire fort even if they were both far too tall to fit comfortably anymore. Their knees would knock together and Taichi would complain about it too being too fucking hot, but he liked it, liked how close they were underneath that sweltering tire fort, and it was worth it, totally worth it. 

"I just. I really. Really. Really." Taichi can't finish his sentence.

"You really like him, don't you?" Taichi doesn't even register Sato said "him" and not "her". 

"Yeah. Yeah I do but I'm not good enough for him? I know I'm not? I just fuck things up, but he's always fucking there? He never gets mad but now he won't even look at me and I'm just." He presses his face into his hands because he's not crying? He isn't.

"I love him. I fucking _love_ him. And it is so. Fucked.” 

It’s quiet, but Taichi’d been expecting that. He’s telling the girl he slept with two weeks ago that he’s actually in love with his childhood best friend, what does he expect her to say? He’s waiting for Sato to get up and just walk away, but he feels a hand on his shoulder instead. 

“It’s really hard to be mad at you like this, you know.” Taichi looks up. She’s smiling, for real this time, and he thinks _I really don’t deserve all these nice people taking pity on me._ She sighs and puts her hand back in her lap.

“You’re probably right. He is probably too good for you.” Okay, he deserved that. “But if he’s still here? And has been since you guys were 11?” Sato shrugs. “You look like the kind of person who was a real shit when you were 11.” Taichi can’t deny that. 

“Maybe you worry too much.” Sato stands up from the bench and brushes the back of her skirt. She turns her wrist over and makes a show of checking the time. 

“Anyways. I have better things to do than console the boy I slept with about dealingw with his boy problems.” The longer Taichi talks with Sato, the more he realizes she is absolutely nothing like Koushiro. For some reason, that makes him smile. 

“Yeah. You really do.” He gets up from the bench and stands across from Sato, close enough to imply _yeah, we’re okay_ but far enough that it’s clear they aren’t together. 

“Good luck, Taichi-kun. Work it out, and maybe, when you’re not distraught and fucked over, I can actually will myself to be mad at you.” Taichi shakes his head and laughs. 

“I deserve that.” Sato looks at her watch again. 

“If you leave now, you can probably still catch him.” 

Taichi wonders if he’s really _that_ obvious. 

He takes off running, down a path he’s taken so many times, Taichi wouldn’t be surprised if he could see imprints of his feet in the road. As the years have gone by, the huge apartment complexes don’t seem so huge anymore, the trees don’t seem as tall anymore, and the distance from here to there seems so much closer. 

But while everything else seems smaller, Taichi feels like his heart is four times larger, thumping and throbbing hard enough to crack his ribs and jump out of his chest. He can make his way to Koushiro’s apartment with his eyes shut, but he’s just standing there, staring at the door plate that says _Izumi_ like it’s his first time here, sweating and nervous and terrified. 

He’s been here so many times, but this is his first time at Koushiro’s door with his heart beating for _him_.

He knocks to the beat of his pulse. 

_One-One_  
T-Two  
Th-Three 

_You_ are _my adventure._

 


	5. taraxacum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> koushiro goes too hard and taichi is like what the fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WENT TOO HARD BUT I ALSO DONT CARE  
> when i come out my shit is gone  
> hmu @kasuutan on twit and koushiheaux on tumblr

“Koushiro! Come here!” 

They’re walking home from the soccer field, evening sun setting behind the trees. Koushiro needs to be back before dark, he really doesn’t want his parents to worry, but Taichi is _such_ a slow walker. He dallies on the way home, staring at things in the sky or things in the grass. Koushiro always looks, wonders what on earth he could be staring at, but he doesn’t see anything. 

The thing is, Taichi doesn’t live that close to him. It’s a bit of a detour to walk with him home from soccer practice every day, and Koushiro is fully aware of that. 

He goes to Taichi anyways, walking in the opposite direction of home. Koushiro doesn’t mind. 

Taichi’s leaning over another patch of grass, staring at a crack between the pavement and the field. 

“What are we looking at?” Koushiro asks because honestly, again, he sees nothing. Taichi grins that big, toothy grin that seems to come so easily to him and plucks two stems from the ground. 

“These! Open your eyes, will ya! You’re missing all the good stuff!” Koushiro fails to see what’s “good” about dandelion puffs. 

“And look, you’re lucky because there’s two! I wouldn’t share, you know, even if it is you, Koushiro.” Koushiro has no idea what he’s talking about. 

Taichi shoves the stem into his palm and Koushiro is loaded with questions of _what is this, what am I supposed to do with it, what’s so special about a dandelion puff?_

It’s when he watches Taichi take a deep breath, puff up his lungs so his chest swells that Koushiro understands, finally. 

“Wait, wait! Please!” Taichi coughs and sputters, breath caught in his throat. 

“Awww, come on, what? I can never get all the puffs off the stem in one go and I thought for sure this time I’d be able to.” Taichi’s pouting, stem drooping in his hand. 

“You shouldn’t blow on dandelion puffs. They’re weeds. If you blow on them, the seeds spread and more start growing. They start taking over fields and occupying land.” Taichi looks at Koushiro with a look that he’d only describe as incredulous. 

“Come on Koushiro, lighten up!” That grin spreads across Taichi’s face again. “A few weeds, so what? You gotta stop thinking with your head and just do what feels right.” He flicks Koushiro on the forehead and he squeaks. “It’s fun, it’s worth a few weeds. Come on, on three now.” 

Koushiro doesn’t endorse spreading weeds, he never has. He’s never blown out a dandelion puff in his life. 

But he can hear Taichi counting, _one, two, three_ and somehow between _three_ and the sound of his own laughter, dandelion fluff is floating in the air above them, rising into the sky and above the trees. 

The stem in Koushiro’s hand is bare. 

“Hey! Koushiro, you did it! No fair, I can never get them all off in one blow.” Koushiro looks at Taichi’s hand, stray puffs lingering on the tip of the stem. He’s smiling that big toothy grin again, the one where he can see the gaps in his teeth and for some reason, it makes Koushiro want to smile, too. 

“You’re amazing, even at stuff like blowing out dandelion puffs.” Koushiro feels his face heat because _no, he isn’t amazing, Taichi-san is-_

“Oh well, I guess next time you’ll just have to show me how you did it, huh?” Taichi wraps an arm around Koushiro’s shoulders and tugging him close. They walk home together, just like that, and when Koushiro steps into his room, the centers of his cheeks hurt from smiling too hard. 

He’s glad there’ll be a “next time”. 

 

* * *

 

There’s only one person Koushiro knows who knocks on doors with their heart on their sleeve. He’s heard it before, when he went with him to Sora’s house that one time in the 7th grade. He’d knocked rhythmic and loud, and Koushiro imagined it matched the beat of his pulse. 

He’s staring at his door and Koushiro counts. 

_One-One_  
T-Two  
Th-Three

It scares him, because it matches Koushiro’s heartbeat exactly, throbbing in his throat, beating in his chest. He presses fingers over the pulsepoint in his neck, and he can almost pretend it’s Taichi’s. 

“Koushiro, I know you’re there.” He doesn’t answer. 

“I know you don’t want to see me right now, and that’s okay but I.” Koushiro hears Taichi swallow. “I wanted you to know something.” Koushiro stares at the ground and he thinks it looks so far away. 

“She had red hair.” Koushiro swallows. It’s quiet. He can hear the blood running through his head. 

“But not like Sora’s. Like yours.” 

Suddenly, Koushiro can’t count his heart beats anymore because he feels like they’ve stopped, silent so quickly and it leaves Koushiro’s head empty. But it picks up three times as fast, and suddenly it’s not _one-one, t-two, th-three_ but _oneonettwoththreoneonettwoththree._ Koushiro sinks to the floor because it’s too much to stand up. 

“It hasn’t been Sora in a long time, Koushi.” 

Koushiro wants to know everything. He makes it a point, so that he doesn’t end up disappointed or disappointing anyone. But right now, he feels like he doesn’t know _anything,_ feels like his head’s clouded with all the dandelion puffs he’s blown out, clouded over in soft browns and big, toothy smiles, and he can’t figure out _what_ he’s supposed to do, _what_ he’s supposed to say, _what_ he’s supposed to feel. 

“I thought you deserved to know that.” Taichi’s voice sounds so _gentle_ and it makes Koushiro’s blood run hot, makes him forget how think the right way, makes him curious about all the wrong things like the feeling of Taichi’s hands on him and the way his voice would sound in his ear and-

“Well, you deserve a lot more than just that but I-” Koushiro hears Taichi’s voice falter, crack in the middle and that makes his chest want to split open. “I don’t think I’m good enough to give you all of that.” 

_No, no no no no._

“But I just wanted you to know because it’s been fucking me up so badly, I know I’ve been fucking up so badly and I just.” There’s a thump against the door and Koushiro imagines Taichi beating his fist against the wood. “I just want to see you happy. I want to _make_ you happy.” 

Koushiro is rational. He prides himself on having complete logical control over his actions, all well thought out and calculative. He likes knowing his end result with every little thing he does, he hates unpredictability. So when jumps to his feet, vision blurred with tear stains, he doesn’t think about _what_ will happen when he swings open that door. He doesn’t consider the pros and the cons, doesn’t think about the possibility of failure. He doesn’t plan anything after her turns that knob, he doesn’t think about what would happen if he pulled down on Taichi’s tie, he just _does_. He doesn’t think about what he’s doing when he slots their mouths together, he doesn’t think _anything._ Just _feels._

Taichi’s hands are hot and everywhere, threading through his hair, running up his back, fingers curling at the nape of his neck. Koushiro feels every little piece of his reserve slipping, all that time he’s spent being logical, hesitant, calculating, slips out from between his fingers as he clutches at the back of Taichi’s jacket. He wants him closer, wants him everywhere, and Koushiro doesn’t _need_ a reason other than _he just wants him to be._

Taichi pulls away first, head slipping down into the crook of Koushiro’s shoulder. He nips at the skin peaking out from the edge of his collar, trails his tongue down his throat and mouths over the beat of Koushiro’s pulse. He whines, high and caught in the back of his throat. 

“Taichi…” Taichi stops, shudder crawling up his spine and Koushiro feels it against his skin. 

“Say that again.” he mumbles into Koushiro’s ear, voice heavy and it makes Koushiro’s head feel thick. 

“Taichi-san…?” He feels Taichi shake his head and chuckle against the side of his neck.

“Never mind.”

“But-” Taichi raises his head and presses his lips against Koushiro’s half open mouth, slow and soft and gentle. 

“Don’t worry about it.” For a little bit, they just stare at each other, heat rising in their cheeks, self conscious and hyperaware of one another. But they can’t seem to look away, like they need to look, can’t stop looking, because what if they lose their nerve?

“Wow.” Taichi breaks the silence first. “You know, you look really cute kinda messed up like this.” Koushiro feels his entire body fall under him, heat crawling up his skin and pooling in his cheeks. 

“Um. I. Ah-” Taichi laughs, pressing his head back into the crook of Koushiro’s shoulder. 

“I can finally tell you how cute you are.” Taichi mumbles it into his skin, nips at his ear while he mumbles _cute_ and Koushiro doesn’t know what it _is_ but something about it makes him whine, and _god, embarrassing, oh my god-_

“What? You like being called cute?” Koushiro turns his head away because, _no, that’s not true._

“That’s. Cute.” Koushiro forgets Taichi has a relatively limited vocabulary. 

Taichi starts running hands up Koushiro’s sides, curling around his waist and pressing into the small of his back. Koushiro lets him, arching himself unconsciously against Taichi’s chest. 

“So…” Taichi tries. “Are we…? Can I…?” 

Koushiro’s a fast learner. He presses a hand against the back of Taichi’s neck, pulling him down so their noses brush and the tips of Taichi’s hair tickle his face. 

“You _are_ making me happy.” 

It takes him a while, but eventually Taichi smiles. 

Koushiro smiles back, big, toothy, and wide. 

 

“The door, the door- Taichi-san, the door…ngh!” Taichi grinds his thigh in between Koushiro’s legs, impatient and a little bit annoyed because god, what is he so worried about? His parents aren’t even home, they won’t be home for the next few hours, and Taichi’s been having consistent wet dreams about this very moment for the last like three years so Koushiro is _fucking_ with him if he thinks he’ll stop to close the goddamn door. 

“What if they get hah-home e-early??” Taichi’s hands are getting tired of waiting, tired of spending the last years just barely brushing against the tips of Koushiro’s fingers, itching feel every inch of his skin, memorize every curve and dip of his body, and Koushiro’s making him wait _longer_ when he’s right there, shirt wrinkled and tie skewed. 

Taichi pulls back and stares, follows the flush of his cheeks to the sharp cut of his collar bone. He wants to bite them, bruise them just a little bit and cover them with the white of his uniform shirt so only _they_ know. Koushiro looks _so._ So. 

Fuck.

Taichi shoves Koushiro into his bedroom and yanks the door shut behind them. He hears the lock click and it’s deafening in his ears. He’d been ready to burst earlier, on edge and at the end of his patience, but suddenly Koushiro’s room feels unfamiliar. He’s been coming here for years, but the sound of that lock, the heat trapped beneath the collar of his shirt, the way Koushiro’s hair is sticking out and the way their breaths are so _heavy_ it makes Taichi wonder-

“Are you really okay with this?” He needs to know. He wants to know. Taichi knows Koushiro’s amazing, has always known that. Everything about him, everything he does, Koushiro’s fucking amazing. So of course he’d love him. Who wouldn’t fucking love him? 

He’s not so sure about the other way around, though. 

But Koushiro looks at him with big, dark eyes that say everything. Koushiro’s never been very good with words, that’s something else Taichi’s known. But he’s never had to be, because Taichi can read everything in his eyes. He knows the way Koushiro looks at things he loves, the way his eyes twinkle like the night sky after midnight. 

“Yes.” is what he says, but Koushiro’s eyes make Taichi feel like he’s worth everything. 

“Oh my god I _love_ you.” Taichi never thinks, doesn’t plan, doesn’t try to make any sense of anything before hand, all Taichi does is _feel._ And all Taichi feels, all Taichi’s ever felt is _oh my god, I love you._

He watches Koushiro’s pretty, dark eyes grow wide, wider, wider, until they take up half his face. The blush spreads across his cheeks until it’s eaten up all his skin, and Taichi can’t take it anymore. 

He grasps Koushiro by his shoulders and flattens him out against the wall. Taichi likes the way their bodies mold together, how his hands fit right in the dip of his waist, how their hips slot together like they were both originally one piece. 

Koushiro is so _whiny,_ tiny high mewls right into Taichi’s ears and it makes his skin burn. He’s loosening Koushiro’s shirt buttons with sweaty fingers, getting close to ripping them off by the threads because he needs more, needs more skin, needs more Koushiro. 

The shirt comes off and slips down narrow shoulders. Taichi swears Koushiro’s bones glow from underneath his skin. Koushiro pushes back, gestures to his face to pull his glasses off, but like _fuck_ Taichi’s letting that happen. He brushes Koushiro’s hand away, grasping his fingers between his. 

“They’ll keeping getting in the way. They keep hitting your face.” Koushiro tries, but Taichi’s having none of it. 

“Keep them on.” Taichi insists. Koushiro looks unconvinced. “I like them. They’re cute.” He presses lips over the curve of his shoulder, bites at the skin, and when Koushiro mewls, Taichi thinks he’ll probably be keeping the glasses on. He runs palms down Koushiro’s slim waist, trailing fingers between the spaces between his ribs, letting his thumbs press against the jut of his sharp hip bones. 

He feels Koushiro shudder underneath him, forehead falling and pressing against Taichi’s shoulder. He hears a tiny moan ripple from the back of Koushiro’s throat and it makes Taichi’s chest swell. 

“What was that?” 

“I-I. It feels nice.” 

“What feels nice?” He’s smirking into Koushiro’s pretty red hair; doesn’t he know Taichi’s stupid and needs things spelled out for him? 

“I-i. Like. My hips. I like it when you hold my hips.” Taichi can practically feel Koushiro’s body temperature triple when he stumbles around his words, body shrinking away from him in embarrassment. Taichi doesn’t let him though, grabs onto the v of his hips and pulls him back close. A soft moan parts Koushiro’s lips and all Taichi can think is _wow._

“Uh huh…What else do you like?” Taichi thumbs circles into the skin on Koushiro’s waist. 

“I- I don’t know. Why don’t you-nnngh- learn and find out?” Taichi leans back, eyebrow quirked, smug smile dancing on his lips. 

“Do you think this is a game, Koushi?”He asks, voice low and dangerous. Koushiro looks back, black eyes glinting in a way that makes Taichi’s mouth go dry. 

“Only if you don’t mind losing.” The corners of Koushiro’s mouth turn up into smirk Taichi can only describe as mischievous, and Taichi just wants to _fuck it right off him._

They don’t know when their mouths slot back together, they don’t know who started it, who leaned in first. All they know is their teeth are clicking together, biting into each other’s mouths because they’ve been _dying_ for each other’s taste. Clothes are falling to the floor, hands are running over new, uncovered skin that’s begging to be touched. 

When Koushiro pulls on Taichi’s hair, it’s over. 

“Fuck…” At first Koushiro stops. His hand freezes, tangled in thick, brown hair. 

“Sorry! Did I hurt you?” Taichi laughs, like loud and obnoxious and unattractive.

“No. Not at all. Don’t be stupid.” He reaches behind him and pats Koushiro’s hand reassuringly. “Keep doing it while I do this” 

Koushiro has a question forming on his lips- honestly, when doesn’t he? But he closes his fucking mouth when Taichi starts to lower himself, sinking down to his knees and tucking himself between Koushiro’s legs. 

“Taichi-s-” He cuts himself off with a moan when Taichi presses his palm against the front of Koushiro’s jeans. “Y-you don’t- aghn- have to do t-that…” 

“Do what?” Sometimes, Taichi just likes playing dumb. 

“Y-you know what!” Taichi just hums, busies himself with unbuttoning Koushiro’s pants and fiddling with the zipper. He likes the sound of Koushiro’s labored breathing, uneven and absolutely ruined sounding. It’s nothing like the dreams. He wishes his dreams were this quality. 

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Taichi unzips Koushiro’s jeans and wraps his hand around his slender length. 

“NnnnNNnn—!” Koushiro bucks forward, head banging against the wall and Taichi just watches, enamored with how easy it is to get Koushiro to break. 

“T-that. You don’t-”

“Oh. But I want to. That’s too bad.” Taichi pulls him out and it’s just. 

Wow. 

He looks up, and Koushiro has his arms crossed over his face, head pressed flat against the wall in embarrassment. 

_He is so cute._

Taichi takes it in, and somehow, there’s even something cute about his cock. It’s slim, fits comfortably in Taichi’s larger hands as he pumps up and down, thumbing into the pink tip and spreading precum over the head. 

“A-aah, n-I! T-t—!” _Say it._ Taichi thinks, pumping faster, harder, hand slicked up because Koushiro can’t handle it. _I want you to say it._

Taichi leans forward and wraps his mouth around the head, lowers his head down and-

“ _Taichi, fuck!”_

Taichi’s gone. His blood boils, because he loves the way his name sounds when it makes its way past Koushiro’s lips. He loves how broken it comes out, Koushiro so far gone he _forgets_ himself. Polite, well mannered Koushiro, melting underneath him, body coiled in while Taichi has him in between his lips. 

Koushiro doesn’t seem to mind how sloppy Taichi is, how uneven his rhythm is and how he keeps faltering to keep from gagging. Taichi is almost sure it’s shit, as he pulls his head back fast before Koushiro can hit the end of his throat. But Koushiro doesn’t seem to mind, lips pink and shiny and split open in the shape of Taichi’s name. 

When Koushiro knots his fingers in his hair, Taichi can’t help it. 

He groans, vibrations from his throat traveling up Koushiro’s entire body and he shudders, whines, cries and-

“T-taichi, s-stop, I can’t- I’m-”

It strikes Taichi too late that he hasn’t thought this far through. Before he can pull off, Koushiro’s back is arching up off the wall,mouth split wide open and he cums with Taichi’s name staining his lips. 

Taichi’s heard that you’re supposed to swallow. He tries, he really does, but he chokes, gags, and it spills out of his mouth onto his school pants, onto the carpet, and as an aftermath, Taichi thinks it’s kinda gross. 

“Oh my god, oh my _god_ I’m so sorry, Taichi-san, there’s tissues on my desk I’m-” Koushiro’s kneeling on the ground too, face flushed as red as his hair, and it’s so-

“Cute.” Taichi wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, leans forward, and presses his lips against Koushiro’s. “Shush.” 

Koushiro stares at him, dark eyes weirdly unreadable. It makes Taichi feel uneasy, 

“…what? Was it not good?” Koushiro blinks. His eyes shift around the room and land back on Taichi’s face. Taichi’s uneasiness grows. 

“Sit on the edge of the bed. Please.” Koushiro adds it in as an afterthought, like he’s trying to remind himself he’s Izumi Koushiro, well-mannered, soft-spoken Izumi Koushiro who _doesn’t_ get off to being called cute or having his hips pulled on. 

Koushiro looks at him with dark eyes that say “listen” and it makes Taichi’s jeans feel too tight. 

He gets off the floor and sits on the edge of the bed. 

“Thank you.” Taichi scrunches his nose. Koushiro scoots forward on the carpet, and Taichi watches the way his pants swing too low on his hips now, how he can see the knobs of his spine make up the arch of his back and he honestly wonders how they’ve lasted this long? 

“You said you wanted this to be a game, didn’t you?” Oh _no. “_ I told you, I wasn’t going to lose.” 

Taichi swallows thickly, fingers clutching at the sheets of Koushiro’s bed. When Koushiro kneels between his thighs, brushes fingers along the insides of his legs, Taichi realizes he has _never_ won a game against Koushiro. He’s too fucking good at them, Taichi swears he cheats every single time. And with the way he looks like that, dark red hair mussed from being grabbed and tugged at, dark, heavy eyes looking up at him from beneath thick lenses, Taichi thinks Koushiro absolutely must be cheating. 

He doesn’t mind that Koushiro’s hands are trembling, he doesn’t mind when he has to fiddle with the zipper on his pants a couple times because his hands are clammy from nerves. He just pets through his hair, and it’s just as soft as he thought it would be, dark and silky between his fingers. 

When Taichi hears the teeth of his zipper come apart, he has to keep from groaning, shudder crawling up his spine and reaching all the way to the ends of his hair. Everything is too new, he feels like his skin is on fire and his heart is beating so fast it’s due to give out at any second. 

Koushiro is clumsy. His hands are small, his fingers are thin and his wrists are delicate. But it doesn’t matter to Taichi when he wraps shaking hands around his length, it doesn’t fucking matter because it’s Koushiro, and honestly that’s more than enough for Taichi to lose this game. 

“Shit…” Taichi leans forward, head bowed low because _shit._ He presses a hand against the back of Koushiro’s neck just to anchor himself, not to press his head down. But Koushiro starts to lower himself, and Taichi snaps himself up because he will probably fucking die, he’s probably on the cusp of death because- 

“Oh, fuck-Koushi-” Taichi can’t even say his whole name, drags off into a long moan because _jesus._

Koushiro looks up at him and blinks, dark lashes kissing his cheekbones. It’s honestly too much, Koushiro is a fucking cheater when it comes to games. His mouth is so small, delicate, plush lips split open to wrap around his head. Saliva trickles down his chin and it’s a mess, it should be gross or something, but it just isn’t, it’s cute, it’s so fucking cute, Taichi has no idea when “cute” became synonymous with “I want to watch you get ruined”. 

What gets Taichi hardest is how Koushiro looks at him. He can see it in his eyes, pupils blown even wider so his eyes look even blacker. When Koushiro sinks himself slowly because Koushiro’s a fast learner, and he doesn’t want to choke, Taichi has to throw his head back, moan thick in the back of his throat.

“Fuck, that’s good.” He hears Koushiro whine beneath him, and Taichi might not learn as fast as Koushiro, but he learns well enough.

“So you like being told you’re cute and you like being told you’re good…” He sees Koushiro’s cheeks flush as he pulls himself up again. “You’re kinda gross, I wouldn’t have guessed.” Koushiro pulls his mouth of completely, salivia and precum glossing his lips. 

“Thats not true.” He denies, hand replacing his mouth around the base. Koushiro’s voice is hoarse, breathing heavy and that makes Taichi’s blood stir. 

“I don’t mind it.” He says, reaching a finger out to brush cum off the bottom of Koushiro lower lip. He shudders when Koushiro’s tongue darts out to lick at the pad of his fingertip and Taichi wonders where the fuck he learned this shit. 

“You’re not any better yourself. You’re the one who likes watching.” Taichi hums, pressing his hand against the back of Koushiro’s head. He complies, almost eagerly, which makes Taichi’s head spin.  

“What can I say?” He says, groan catching at the end of his sentences as Koushiro lowers his mouth back down. “You look good like this.” 

Taichi realizes they’re a fucking mess. They don’t know what the fuck they’re doing, stumbling around words and cough-gagging around each other’s dicks. But it doesn’t matter, because Koushiro’s moaning with his mouth full, eyes glazing over and sucking getting erratic. Taichi feels himself winding too tight, getting too close, and honestly he’s surprised he’s lasted this long, because Koushiro looks too good, lips too pink, eyes too wide, face too cute.. 

“Fuck- s-shit. Kou, I-move, I don’t-” Taichi tries to pull away, but Koushiro isn’t having it. He presses himself closer, mouth sinking almost low enough to take the entirety of Taichi’s length, and if he were more consciously aware, Taichi would have had the sense to be impressed, but he’s too fucking close, it’s too fucking good, and all he knows how to think is Koushiro. 

Taichi’s sure Koushiro has also heard he’s supposed to swallow.Koushiro sputters but stays put, taking everything without any mess. Taichi’s staring at him incredulously, and part of him almost has the gall to consider getting aroused again.

“I suppose I won, then.” Koushiro says, lips glistening. 

“Why are you good at this?” Taichi has the right to be suspicious. Koushiro shrugs. 

“One of those hidden abilities, maybe.” He climbs onto the bed and shoves Taichi over to the wall. Taichi groans, rolls onto his side and wraps himself around Koushiro like he always wished he could. 

“Or you’re just amazing at everything.” Taichi yawns, burying his face in hair that’s the right shade of red. “At blowing out dandelion puffs and sucking dick.” 

“Don’t be crude.” 

“Says the one who got off to being told they were good.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Okay.” Taichi presses a kiss to Koushiro’s forehead and lets his eyes slip shut. He lets himself listen to the evened-out breathing below him. 

“By the way, Taichi-san.” 

“Nnn.” 

“Wallace was right.” 

“Huh?” 

“He told me you’d come around to it, eventually. You were just slow.” 

Taichi determines that he fucking hates Americans. 

 

* * *

 

“Alright, listen. You just need to take a deep enough breath, and exhale slowly. Not all at once.” 

“I’ve _been_ doing that, Kou.” 

“Not correctly, apparently.” 

“Oh, be shut up.” 

“Look, just follow me, okay? On three.” 

_One_

_Two_

_Thr-_

Hands wrap around Koushiro’s wrist, bringing the dandelion away from his face. Lips catch between his, parted and ready to release a breath, but it’s stolen away before Koushiro can count to three. 

He doesn’t mind sharing though. 

Taichi pulls away, toothy grin spread across his face, and it’s been years since Koushiro first saw it, and it still makes him want to smile back. 

“Sorry, I got distracted. Show me again?” 

And Koushiro does smile. He wraps his hand over Taichi’s and brings the dandelion between their faces. 

“Blow it out with me?” 

Taichi looks at him, and Koushiro can count to three in his eyes. 

_One_

_Two_

_Three._

_This is our adventure._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i cant believe i spent 15k words just projectile ejaculating about taishiro what am i doing  
> thx to anyone and everyone who got this far youre the real mvp here


End file.
